


Affirmations

by LizzyPaul



Series: Aftermath [2]
Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Blogging, Declarations Of Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 18:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyPaul/pseuds/LizzyPaul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt discovers the downside to having a blog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affirmations

The downside to having a blog, Matt discovered, was that when something truly exciting happened to him, he couldn’t write about it because no one would believe him. 

He used his blog mostly to talk about computers and gaming, and to keep up with the few scattered friends he had. Over the three years since he’d started it, he’d developed a small group of readers, enough that when he finally was able to go back online, there was a stack of e-mail demanding to know when he was going to write about the world collapsing. 

Matt stared at his computer screen and tried to decide what to write. Details about what had occurred were right out; even if some people did believe him, the amount of shit he’d catch from the feds wasn’t worth it. Matt was aware that John had gone out on a really shaky limb for him, and he wasn’t about to do anything to cut it out from under him.

John. 

Now _there_ was something he could write about.

***  
 _  
 **My Summer Vacation by Matt the (reformed) Hacker**_

_How is everyone? That’s a serious question, btw. Everyone get through Hell okay?_

_I’m fine, thanks for asking. My apartment is history. It’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about it, but if anyone knows someone willing to trade Batman comics for sexual favors, let me know._

_Speaking of sexual favors, one good thing came out of the shitstorm. I met this guy. (Don’t worry, ladies, the Mattinator is an equal opportunity employer.) He helped me out of some tight spots while we waited for the world to end, and then he helped me out in the front seat of his car, if you know what I mean. ;)_

_I sprained my neck sucking him off in the car (it’s been awhile since I’ve had to maneuver around a steering wheel, but thank god for bench seats). This guy like defines butch, and I wasn’t expecting anything in return, but man, he gave me the sweetest straight guy handjob. Also, he’s a great kisser, aggressive, lots of tongue without choking you on it, and really knows how to use his teeth. But he’s an older guy, like really older. Hot, though. So he has experience, I guess._

_And okay, this is going to sound really gay, gayer than admitting I gave this dude a blowjob, but when he was kissing me, when his hand was on my dick, when I came…man, it felt like being born again. I had a full-on gay religious experience. I think I’m kind of in love with the guy, and I have no fucking clue what to do about it._

***

The phone rang, and Matt picked it up without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

“You punk-ass sonofabitch,” John said without preamble. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t come over there and kick your ass.”

“Um,” Matt said. “Isn’t it a little late for a straight guy freak out?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s been a couple days. I figured if you were going to freak out about having sex with a guy, you would have done it already.”

There was a pause. “You think this is because of what we did?”

Matt was feeling lost, something he’d come to strongly associate with John McClane. “Um--”

“This is about you telling my _daughter_ what we did,” McClane snapped. “This is about the fact that my daughter isn’t speaking to me, and my ex-wife spent an hour screaming at me over the phone.”

That’s when Matt remembered he gave Lucy the URL to his blog.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, it was an accident, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry, man.” 

“It should have come from me,” John said. “Whatever there was to tell. Why the hell did you--”

“I wrote about it,” Matt interrupted. “I didn’t tell her, I wouldn’t, I just forgot and wrote about it on my blog.”

“Your what?”

Matt rolled his eyes and refrained from making a joke or reminding John what century they happened to be living in. “It’s like an online journal, where you can write about the stuff that’s important to you.”

John was silent for a moment, then said, “You put all your personal shit on some website where anyone could read it?”

“Well, not _all_ my personal shit,” Matt said. 

“Jesus.”

He listened to John breathe for a minute, then said, “I’m really sorry. I should have thought.”

“Yeah, you should have,” John said. He paused, long enough that Matt started searching for something else to say, than added, “So what’d you write?”

“What?” he asked.

“What’d you write about me?” John asked. 

“Um…” Matt felt sick to his stomach, something else he’d come to associate with John. “Do you have a paper and pen handy?”

“Yeah,” John answered after a pause.

“Okay, write this down. Reformed underscore--the underscore is that key next to the zero, you need to press SHIFT to make it--so it’s reformed underscore hacker dot blogplace--blogplace is one word, okay, b-l-o-g-p-l-a-c-e --dot com.”

“And what’s this tell me?” John asked. 

“That’s my blog. Read it, all right? Easier than me trying to tell you.” Matt laughed. “I really don’t remember what I wrote, anyway,” he lied.

“Fine,” John said, and hung up. 

Matt threw his phone across the room and collapsed on the bed.

***

Matt woke up to someone pounding on this door. He rolled out of bed, a little groggy, hip hurting from the wallet in his jeans that he’d slept on. He opened the door. 

John McClane stared back at him, expression unreadable.

“Hi,” Matt said.

“You mean what you wrote?” John asked.

“Uh,” Matt tried not to fidget. Or reach out to touch John. “Which part?”

“The part where you said that you’re _kind of in love with me_ ,” John answered.

“Oh,” Matt said. “That.”

John stared at him.

“Shit,” Matt muttered. Then louder, he added, “Yeah, okay? But if you’re going to punch me, please don’t go for the head, because the doctor said that if I get another concussion in the next few weeks I might have permanent brain damage and I’m really not built for doing much other than sitting at a computer desk so if I forget--"

John pushed Matt against the wall and kissed him, hard, shoving the door closed with his foot. Matt had a moment to appreciate his multi-tasking skills before John thrust his tongue inside Matt’s mouth and stuck his hand down Matt’s pants to cup his ass, and Matt stopped thinking about anything more than “ohgodyes” and “do that again, please.”

“I want to fuck you,” John said.

“Uh. Okay,” Matt answered.

John pulled him towards the bed, and Matt stumbled after him. The nice thing about living out of a motel room was that there wasn’t long to stagger before Matt felt the bed against the back of his knees and John pushed him down. Matt raised himself up on his elbows and watched John peel off his shirt--carefully, and there was still a bandage across his shoulder--before lying down beside him. Matt quickly pulled his own shirt over his head and threw it in the general direction of his laundry pile. 

John carded his hand in his hair and pulled him over for another kiss. Matt didn’t usually like it when people tugged on his hair, but with John, it was something of a turn on. Matt let John control the kiss, gave his tongue access, went where John led him with each tug. He felt John’s other hand come up to play with his nipple, a little rougher than Matt usually preferred, but somehow just right. 

John broke the kiss and said, “So I’m really butch, huh?” 

Matt wondered if it was actually possible to die of embarrassment. 

“That get you hot?” John asked, then ran his hand over the front of Matt’s jeans. “Yeah, I think it does. Get those pants off.” Matt hurried to comply, nearly tipping off the bed in his rush. 

When Matt was naked, he turned back to John. He was leaning over the bed, untying his boots. Slowly. After he’d pulled them off, he looked at Matt, almost like an afterthought. He pushed up off the bed. “Touch yourself,” he said, his own hands going to the buckle on his jeans.

Matt felt a little stupid, staring up at John, his hand on his dick, but he decided to go with it. John was right; it _did_ get him hot, the other man taking charge, it had from pretty much the moment they’d met. He started to run his hand up and down, slowly, deliberately avoiding his hot button spots. He didn’t want to come until John was deep inside him.

John sat next him, naked, watching. He trailed his fingers up and down Matt’s chest and belly, dipping inside his bellybutton, swirling around his nipple, and Matt hissed, arching up into the touch. “You thought about this, Matt?” he asked, his voice low and husky. “You thought about being up on your knees for me? You thought about me pushing inside you? You thought about the sounds you’ll make when I pound you hard? I have.” Matt whimpered, and realized that if John kept talking, it wouldn’t matter, he’d come right then. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

“Yeah,” Matt breathed. “Fuck, John--"

“Yeah, I’m gonna fuck you,” John said. He ran his hand down Matt’s leg, around the bullet wound, not close enough that it hurt. “Think it might be best to save you being on your knees for later, though.” And Matt didn’t know what made him happier, the fact that John was worried about him being hurt, or the fact that John thought there was going to be a ‘later’. 

John grabbed a pillow and pushed it under Matt’s hips, and Matt adjusted it while John leaned over the side of the bed and grabbed a condom and lube out of his pocket. “Have you done this before, kid?” John asked. 

“Yeah,” Matt answered. “Have you?”

John grinned. “A couple times,” he said. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” He stroked himself and rolled the condom on. He stared down at Matt. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” 

Matt squirmed. “’m not a girl,” he said.

“I noticed,” John said dryly, and ran a finger along the underside of Matt’s cock. He squeezed some of the lube onto his fingers, and Matt closed his eyes when he felt a finger trail from his balls to his ass, circling the hole a couple times before pushing inside. 

“Holyfuck!” Matt yelled, when John found his prostate. John pushed another finger inside, unerringly rubbing the spot, and Matt dropped his hand from his dick. He could feel his orgasm building. “John, fuck, it’s fine. I’m good to go.”

John grunted, and added another finger. 

Matt let himself go, let John take control, let himself _feel_. John was filling him, the pain-burn soothing into a warm, delicious, pleasure-ache that had him whimpering. When John pulled his fingers out, Matt groaned. 

“Open your eyes,” John commanded. It took a second, but Matt did, and when he finally focused on the other man, John pushed inside him with a long, shuddering breath.

He stopped, half inside, and Matt wrapped his ankles around John’s waist, wiggled to try and get him to move. “C’mon,” he said. “It’s good, c’mon, _move_.”

John did, after a moment, slowly at first. He supported himself above Matt with one arm; he used his hand with the injured shoulder to stroke Matt’s dick, a lose fist that Matt found himself wanting to thrust into, while at the same time wanting to push onto John’s cock. He moaned, loudly. 

It didn’t take long before he was spilling all over his stomach and John’s hands, with a loud, keening cry that he tried to muffle. John kissed him. “Fuck, kid…”

His thrusts became more erratic, hard, until he came as well, and slumped onto Matt’s chest.

It was okay, until Matt remembered that he needed to breathe, and the condom still in his ass. “Um…”

John groaned, but pulled out. He tied off the condom and tossed it towards the trash can. He missed. It bounced off the wall and hit the floor with a splurch.

“Hey!” Matt exclaimed. He made a mental note to remembet to pick it up before housekeeping had to deal with it, but didn't have the energy or the desire to get out of bed already.

John lay back against the bed, one arm over his eyes, the other outstretched. “Sorry,” he said, and his eyes slipped closed. Matt really wasn’t sure what to do, but he scooted over until he was resting near John, but not touching him. 

“So I’m really sorry about what happened. You know, with the blog,” Matt said.

“Shut up,” John groused, but he pulled Matt close, until his head was lying on John’s shoulder, and Matt realized he was forgiven.


End file.
